


That's What The Flowers Are For

by wolfie_slays



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Boys In Love, Flowers, Fluff, M/M, Marriage, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 02:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16652752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfie_slays/pseuds/wolfie_slays
Summary: ...and there’s nothing the pair can do but nod dumbly, emotions thick in their throats, deciding that no words exist for how much they love each other, their family. That’s what the flowers are for.





	That's What The Flowers Are For

**When Peter is six years old** , he’s sitting on the living room floor, colouring with thick and chunky crayons, tongue poking out in concentration, when his forearm starts itching, unbearably. He pulls his sleeve up to investigate, pudgy, child-like fingers scrabbling at his skin, when he sees two _flowers_ bloom across his arm, flowers he will later learn to be white chrysanthemums, representative of grief, of loss. A few minutes later, there is a heavy knock at the door, closely followed by May’s sharp cry and stifled sobs, Ben’s hand heavy on his shoulder. 

 **When Peter is fourteen years old** , he sees his uncle fall dead on the pavement right in front of his eyes, shot through the chest by a common street criminal. He died trying to protect someone else. Peter sees everything, feels the choking grief close in his throat, feels that burning, itching on his forearm. He doesn’t need to look down to see that the two white chrysanthemums have become three. 

 **When Peter is fifteen years old** , he walks into his apartment and sees his hero, Tony Stark, sitting on aunt May’s ratty old couch, eating her horrendous walnut date loaf. He almost passes out right then and there, especially when the _incredibly handsome_ older man quirks an inquisitive brow, and in that deep, honey-smooth voice that so far Peter had only heard through the distortion of speakers, greets him with an ‘ _Oh, mister Parker_.’. There was nothing Peter could do to soothe the flaming itch spreading its way across his right bicep, and moments after Mr Stark left he was slamming the door to his bedroom, pulling up the sleeve of his sweater. A blue tulip, a declaration of love, interwoven beautifully with a flaming pink aster, a reminder to be _patient_. 

 **When Peter is sixteen years old,** he dies in his lover’s arms. Neither of them know, of course, and each is certain their love is unrequited, but Peter feels Tony’s pain in his chest, feels the man’s tears as he sobs and begs and realises that he _doesn’t want to die_. Suspended in this timeless universe, where everything is nothing and he feels lost and helpless and longs for _something_ , there’s a familiar burning itch that spreads itself up his ribs, across his stomach, more intense than anything that had come before. He’d look if he could, but he can’t, though it doesn’t matter. He knows that it’s a beautiful maze of honeysuckle and ivy, devoted affection, bonds of love, endurance, faithfulness.

 **When Peter is eighteen years old,** Tony Stark saves his life. As he feels himself being dragged out of the nothingness, he feels as if he’s being crushed, exploded, as if every cell in his body is being destroyed and reforming, and it’s the most pain he’s ever felt. He _screams_ , screams until he can’t breathe, and then he’s in Tony’s arms, and the pain disappears. Tony is crying, sobs racking his body as Peter clings to him, and he feels Tony’s fingers tracing the flowers blooming over his neck, too high for Peter to ever hope to be able to cover them. Primroses, eternal love, wrapping their way around tender and delicate skin. Tony’s whispering into his neck, _I love you, never leave me again, I love you so much, I need you_.

 **When Peter is twenty-three years old** , he marries Tony Stark, the man who broke his heart and stitched it back together through muffled confessions and devotions and painful, _painful_ love. The wedding is obnoxious, flashy, everything about Tony that Peter loves and hates in equal measure, everything about Tony that Peter wanted to call his own. As he walks up the aisle on May’s arm, sees his fiancé stood at the altar looking so gorgeous that Peter’s breath caught in his throat, an itching wound its way around his wrist, down his hand to come to a stop at the tip of his ring finger. Peach blossoms, long-life and bridal hope, intertwined with beautiful sprigs of lavender, the ultimate devotion. He reaches the altar, noise rushing in his ears until all he can see is the happiness radiating from Tony’s face, the way his lips form the words ‘ _I do_.’, the way tears shine in his eyes as Tony slides the wedding band over the winding flowers. 

 **When Peter is twenty-seven _,_** he carries and gives birth to their baby, a beautiful boy, Edward, that has Tony’s gorgeous, inquisitive eyes and Peter’s delicate, elfish face, and Peter decides that he’s never loved Tony more than when his face shines with admiration as he holds their child. It’s not common for a child to be born with a flower, and when they are it’s often not a good sign, a chronic illness, a ‘curse flower’, something all parents fear, but not for Tony and Peter. Edward has a yellow chrysanthemum, _precious one_ , delicate and beautiful on his upper thigh. It’s so rare that the nurses crowd around, _ooh_ ing and _ahh_ ing, stroking Edward’s thatch of dark hair and playfully ticking his tiny feet.  One turns to Peter and Tony and says ‘The two of you must love this baby more than anything.’, and there’s nothing the pair can do but nod dumbly, emotions thick in their throats, deciding that no words exist for how much they love each other, their family. That’s what the flowers are for. 

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me, my tumblr is @/smolstarker :)


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